


Softly

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, also SHUT UP ALREADY ABE FFS KID, okay there are other people there but they are asleep so, pushy Mihashi, slight breathplay if ya squint, spoilers for post-Bijou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:58:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since the summer training camp, Mihashi's gotten a lot more comfortable around Abe. Maybe TOO comfortable. During the trip to see Koushien, he seems to be having trouble with little things like respecting personal space. But, whatever Abe might hope, it probably doesn't mean anything, it's just Mihashi being clueless and weird, as always. There's NO WAY he would do stuff like this on purpose...right?<br/>And then, on the bus ride home...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly

**Author's Note:**

> If you're thinking HEY isn't this a repost, yes. Yes it is. I'm gonna try and put stuff back up slowly so I'm not spamming the tag (and also so I have time to edit stuff I'm not happy with) but this one was pretty well-liked, and seems like a good place to start, so here.

A hotel room ceiling is an exceptionally dull thing to be stuck sleeplessly staring at. No cracks or mysterious stains, no misplaced daubs of paint, just a featureless expanse of smooth plaster and a blandly inoffensive lamp. He’s not sure how long it’s been since Mihashi switched out the lights, but long enough that Abe’s getting irritated. His leg didn’t hurt much earlier, but, perhaps just because there’s nothing to distract him now, it’s bad enough to make sleep elusive. He shifts restlessly, making a frustrated noise under his breath. _If I don’t get plenty of sleep, it’ll set back my healing, and…_

And, though he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, it's hard to sleep when he can’t shake the awareness of Mihashi lying so close by. _It feels like something out of a cheesy romance, us sharing a room like this._ He’s not the sort to lie here imagining what-ifs, but he’s hyper-conscious that he could just sort of...get up, take a single step (if that) and lie down beside him. Curl around his small form and stroke his sides and nuzzle his soft hair. It occurs to him he knows _exactly_ how it’d smell, even, like the hotel shampoo, and then he’s thinking about Mihashi’s flushed face when he came out of the shower, his hair mostly subdued by the weight of the water, talking to him so earnestly and surprisingly direct... And even though he’s showered recently, it’d probably _also_ smell like Abe's hand did after he’d buried it in Mihashi’s hair when they measured their heights. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, and glares at the ceiling resentfully, shifting his hips.

There’s a soft rustle from the other bed, and then, a minute later, “Um. Is...is... Abe-kun can’t sleep?”

“Yeah.”

Mihashi rolls over, and although Abe refuses to turn his head (on the off-chance that the dim light from the window is enough to betray his blush), he can tell he’s watching him. But Mihashi doesn’t say anything more for long enough that Abe’s decided he’s probably fallen asleep. But then he asks, softly, “Abe-kun’s leg...?”

“It’s bugging me a little, yeah, but don’t worry about it. Go to sleep. Don’t forget tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

Another longer silence. Eventually, Abe turns, impatient curiousity getting the better of him (and perhaps also the possibility of seeing Mihashi’s sleeping face).

But Mihashi’s wide awake, staring back at him, and if his face isn’t quite as sweetly relaxed as it is when he’s asleep, it’s close enough that it makes Abe’s heart skip a beat. _And he’s looking at ME like that_. He looks away; at least his embarrassment is starting to irritate him, give him something else to focus on.

Then Mihashi sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Ah! I saw! Down...I can... Ice... _ice_ machine!”

Abe pushes himself up, reaching after Mihashi, a little slow to parse out what he’s saying. “Don’t bother wi—” But he’s already kicked on his shoes and yanked open the door, running into the hall. “ _Key...card_...” Abe strangles out, watching the sliver of light from the doorway narrow. At the last possible moment, Mihashi crashes back inside, making him jump, and grabs the key card off the dresser, gone before Abe can do more than blink. He falls back on the bed, sighing.

He’s mostly regained his composure by the time he hears Mihashi fiddling with the lock. He stops in the bathroom, coming out wrapping a hand towel around his prize and giving Abe a nervous little smile. “I put...two! Two bags. So...so it won’t...wet??”

“Good,” he says with a nod, “Thanks, actually.” Propping himself up, Abe puts his hand out for the ice, not really processing that Mihashi hasn’t come around to the side of the bed, is still standing and watching him.

The bed creaks.

“What are—” he trails off, watching Mihashi walk closer on his knees. His heart pounds; he’s paralyzed, willing himself to move, to stop Mihashi from doing... _whatever_ he’s planning, worried Mihashi _will_ stop, slide off the bed, leave Abe alone with his bag of ice and his frustration. Apparently failing to notice his discomfort, Mihashi happily kneels between him and the wall, breaking up the ice in his little bundle and then gingerly setting it on his knee. Abe sighs out a relieved breath; surely now, he’s satisfied his need to be helpful.

He waits. Mihashi’s hands are still there. A few minutes go by. Still there. With what he _hopes_ is an even, pleasant tone, he says, “That’s good. You can go back to—”

“But! It might...off!” It takes him a second to fill in the missing words, and even once he does, he can only squint at Mihashi uncomprehendingly. It’s hard to tell whether Mihashi is being intentionally dense, or is actually concerned that if he isn’t there to hold it, the ice will tumble off into the void, never to be seen again.

Abe rubs his forehead, one eyebrow twitching under his fingers. “It’ll. Be. _Fine_.” He feels Mihashi flinch. His voice came out a little harsher than he meant, a little more revealing of his agitation than he’d like, but maybe that’s good, maybe it’ll scare Mihashi away. But when he peeks at him from behind his hand, Mihashi’s just looking down at his hands on Abe’s knee, still with that weird little smile, but brows drawn together in a worried frown. _And is he...? Also blushing, he’s DEFINITELY blushing_.

Abe’s glad for the hand shielding his face, wishes it would shield him from the hopeful feeling rising in him. That sort of thinking will get him nowhere. He’s already doing a bad enough job of shutting this stupid crush of his down, doesn’t need to fuel it with make-believe. _Mihashi blushes all the time. It’s nothing special. He’s just embarrassed because he did something wrong._

“But I...I want... Abe-kun is always...” Mihashi shifts, knee pressing against Abe's thigh. “I want to...t-t-to be useful to Abe-kun, and... I w-want...” He dips his chin, looks away.

For a long while, Abe just stares at his feet with a lost expression. _What the hell am I even supposed to DO with this guy, with him saying stuff like this? Especially while looking so adorably sleep-rumpled, sitting so temptingly close..._

_And just how were you planning to end that sentence?_

He swallows, takes a steadying breath. “Mihashi. Go...just go to sleep.”

He blinks drowsily at Abe, nods vaguely. And then makes Abe regret his phrasing, flopping over on his side with a happy sigh, still holding the bag of ice to his knee with one hand. Abe finally drops his hand from his face, leaning back, staring down at Mihashi curled against his side like it’s nothing, like it’s totally normal. Who knows, maybe in _his_ mind, it is. _This is bullshit, this isn't fair. And why do you have to look so damn appealing while you’re doing these weird things?_

He means to shake him awake, tell him to go to his own bed. He’ll _throw_ him over there if he has to. That’s what he tells himself, as he reaches for Mihashi's back, that he's going to grab his shirt, he's going to pull him up, _make_ him leave. But the second his fingertips touch the fabric of Mihashi's shirt, he can't do it. Abe glares down at his hand, at his fingers pressing into the warmth of Mihashi's shoulder. Trying to salvage some kind of normalcy, he stiffly pats Mihashi a few times. He feels like an idiot doing it, but at—

Mihashi makes a quiet, happy noise, and, with another little wriggle, nuzzles his side.

Heat seems to bloom out from that point of contact, making Abe thankful for the bunched-up blanket covering his crotch. Lying back, he forces himself to breathe evenly, trying to slow his racing pulse. Now, the featureless ceiling seems serene, an uncomplicated refuge for him to focus on as he gradually calms himself.

Calms himself enough to admit, to remind himself that he _could_ make Mihashi leave...he just doesn’t want to. And it’s not like Abe can’t control himself, so there’s no reason why he shouldn’t let him sleep here if he wants to. _Perhaps it’s even GOOD for us, just another (somewhat unusual) bonding experience_. And it's probably also fine if he leaves his hand on Mihashi's back... MIHASHI seems to like it, even if most people—most guys, at least—would feel uncomfortable. Abe still feels a bit guilty, feels like he’s taking advantage of the situation, though. Nevermind that MIHASHI’S the one that put them in this weird position.

Trying to keep his expression neutral, Abe glances down at Mihashi...only to find him looking back, eyes heavy-lidded but curious, making Abe’s heart thump in his chest. Mihashi’s eyes widen when they meet his, but then he makes a worried face and ducks his head, hunching his shoulders. Abe frowns, confused and annoyed, especially when he feels Mihashi shaking slightly; _the hell was THAT about...?_ But he holds his tongue, doesn’t interrogate Mihashi, because there’s no telling if that’ll be the thing that finally frightens him away. And now, utterly selfishly and against his better judgment, Abe doesn’t want Mihashi to leave.

And maybe... Mihashi responds so much better to touch than to words, and maybe, for once, he can actually _comfort_ him. (What he’s comforting him for, Abe still has no idea, though; _looking at him wrong...?_ ) A way to make him feel good that's acceptable, that's not overstepping. Heart in his mouth, Abe tentatively strokes Mihashi's back.

And almost cheers when he feels Mihashi's shoulders relax.

Sudden affection hits him, even _worse_ , _more_ embarrassing than getting turned on. Blushing, Abe clenches his jaw, turning away even though Mihashi probably can’t see his expression; after a moment, he grumbles out a low sound and shoves his hand into Mihashi’s hair, messing it up thoroughly. Mihashi flinches, but the noise he makes in response sounds happy, so Abe’s going to count that as a successful communication.

 _Another one._ They’ve been happening more and more often, lately, as the two of them have gotten closer. Mihashi actually seems to _like_ him, not just respect him, and, even if he still gets upset and frightened sometimes, is evidently fairly comfortable around him. Maybe a little _too_ comfortable: Mihashi grips Abe's undershirt, fingertips dragging over his hip through the soft fabric, and nudges his nose against his side with a contented sigh. Abe barely manages not to clench his fingers in Mihashi’s hair. _Now I’m feeling both affectionate AND aroused_. _Great_. He glares at the ceiling.

His annoyance only lasts a second, though. It’s washed away by the aching happiness that's filling him from head to toe. This thing growing between them, this thing that is almost what he wants, leaves him with a feeling that’s different from but perhaps no less painful than when he wondered whether Mihashi might hate him. But he can handle it, can keep himself in check. Has to. If Mihashi knew, it would freak him right out, undo all of the carefully-built trust between them, and he’s _way_ too important to Abe, to the rest of the team to run that risk. Definitely more important than Abe’s own inconvenient feelings, more important than stupid things like dating and sex. Mihashi seems almost beyond the reach of those things, those feelings, even if Abe knows full well he’s not. He’s so peculiarly innocent, just doing whatever the hell he feels like with no regard for how it looks to anyone else, let alone consequences, half the time. That genuineness is endearing, but also crushes any hope: if Mihashi felt attracted to him, there’s absolutely _no way_ he’d be able to hide it.

He’s almost envious. It would be nice to just let himself act on his feelings, to pull Mihashi on top of him, and not worry about whether or not he’ll flip out, not be mindful of his leg, not consider the effect something like this might have on the team, just kiss him and see what happens. But that’s not who _he_ is. And it’s probably for the best, because ignoring all those problems (or being completely oblivious to them) wouldn’t make them any less real.

He can be content with this. He’ll _make_ himself be content with this.

At least the ice is helping with his knee.

* * *

In the morning, Mihashi’s already up and dressed by the time Abe wakes, the only evidence of his odd behaviour the night before the bag of ex-ice between Abe’s legs and a slight smear of drool on his undershirt that he’s glad he notices before they leave. Everything seems normal between them; for all he knows, Mihashi doesn’t even remember what happened. Really, the whole thing feels a bit surreal, now, and Abe does his best to put it out of his mind. By the time they get on the bus that evening, he’s MORE than ready to sleep, grateful that anyone who sits next to him probably won’t want to talk.

And then, even though there are plenty of seats free, even with Tajima bounding up the steps behind him, Mihashi decides to sit next to him.

He obviously wants to talk about something, but, despite his curiousity, Abe decides to beat a tactical retreat and pretend to fall asleep before Mihashi can work his way around to it. ...And then he wakes him up to chirp at him about it anyway. Still, it’s touching. Even if it would’ve been just as touching the next morning. Or next week, when he’s had some time to recover from last night.

Abe sleeps again, but not so deep that he doesn’t wake with a start when Mihashi slumps against his shoulder.

It’s just an accident. And it’s not weird or anything. _People fall asleep like this all the time on buses and trains. It’s normal, cliché even. It doesn’t mean anything. I’ve got absolutely no reason to get excited about it. I’m NOT excited about it. I’m irritated. It’s annoying, and Mihashi’s probably going to drool on this shirt too. Gross._

He’s not doing a very good job of convincing himself.

And there’s a tiny part of him that’s suspicious that this _isn’t_ an accident, that last night wasn’t just Mihashi being his normal peculiar clueless self. Abe side-eyes him, trying to ascertain whether he’s really asleep, but so far as he can tell, he is. And almost as soon as it occurs to him, the idea seems ridiculous, anyway. What the hell is he thinking, that Mihashi’s trying to start something, that he’s trying to _flirt?_ Even if he were capable of something like seduction, he seems pretty clearly interested in women, so he certainly wouldn’t be doing it to Abe. _And wouldn’t need to._

And he’ll just be shutting that line of thought down right there, thanks.

He’ll just enjoy this for what it is, another sign of how relaxed Mihashi’s gotten with him, a bit of pleasant, _friendly_ contact. And if his pulse is a little fast, if he’s got the urge to put his arm around him and press a quick kiss to his forehead, no one else is going to know. He does grudgingly allow himself the luxury of (very casually) leaning his cheek against Mihashi’s head. That’s still within the scope of things that people do normally. Not usually on purpose, but it gives him a measure of plausible deniability. Abe breathes carefully, gradually managing to settle down.

The bus takes a corner a bit fast, and Mihashi’s jostled against him, shifting in his sleep until he’s leaning on him more, arm falling against Abe’s. Exhaling a quiet amused breath, Abe adjusts them, sinking down in the seat, angling his shoulder so Mihashi’s more comfortably cushioned, not in danger of falling. Their arms are sort of in the way, and he’s not really sure what to do about that. _Really, the easiest, most practical thing probably WOULD be to put my arm around—_

Mihashi wiggles around, snuggling up to him again, now turned almost sideways in the seat, face pressing into the curve of Abe’s neck.

He can’t seem to breathe. It doesn’t mean anything, though. It’s nothing, it’s—

Fingers brush over the top of his thigh, a skinny forearm following to drape across his lap.

Every sensible, responsible part of him is telling him he should be gently-but-firmly pushing Mihashi back upright. _What if Mihashi wakes up, finds out I’ve let him stay in this embarrassing position? ...What if he thinks I did this? I’m starting to feel like a total creep._

A hand curls around his hip.

... _THE HELL IS HE DOING?_ Any composure he’d regained is gone, just like that; blushing furiously, Abe inhales shakily, eyes wide, trying to figure out what to do. Mihashi smooths his hand up to his waist, shifting to lace the fingers of his other hand with Abe’s. He fails to stop himself from squeezing his hand back, but manages to resist doing anything more. There’s no way he’s still asleep, but just the same, he can’t be certain Mihashi’s not just clueless, not realising this is getting outside the realm of normal stuff between guys.

 _Well_ outside: after stroking his side a few times, Mihashi trails his hand up Abe’s chest to curl around the side of his neck, nuzzles him. But he stills then, breath hot on his neck. Abe’s feeling hopeful that that’s the end of this torture, that maybe Mihashi’s even falling asleep, but then his lips start move randomly against Abe’s skin before pressing in a kiss.

_Oh no._

He wants this, wants this _so bad_ that he just trembles for a moment, but WHY NOW? He could _shake_ Mihashi, this is so stupid. But all Abe does is tilt his head back, free hand clenched on the seat as Mihashi presses more wet kisses up to his jaw.

“Mihashi,” he breathes out, “quit...quit...” _What the hell was THAT? I should be telling him definitively to stop right now. Mihashi may be an airhead, but I’M not some idiot kid who’s going to get caught making out on the bus_. Yet here he is, letting Mihashi slide his hand back down to his thigh, just barely managing to keep himself still, keep himself from hauling him into his lap and kissing him until he can’t breathe. It’s shameful, that he should have so little self-control. And he knows damn well that if they get caught, embarrassment will be the least of their worries. But Mihashi’s apparently not plagued by the same concerns, sliding his hand up to the crease of Abe's hip and thigh, pressing his fingers closer to his crotch. Before he can get any further than that, Abe grabs his wrist, making him squeak; the _last_ thing Mihashi needs right now is the encouragement of finding out he’s already getting him hard.

Maybe he didn’t hear him the first time over the rumble of the motor. “Mihashi, we can’t...” But watching Mihashi shrink away from him, he can’t seem to get the words out.

 _Maybe I can keep us to just making out. Maybe Mihashi will get tired and fall back asleep._ Apologetically, he tugs Mihashi’s hand back up and presses it firmly against his chest, releasing it to stroke a thumb over his cheek. He tilts Mihashi’s chin up, hesitating for a moment and then kisses his lips.

Mihashi’s lips slide gorgeously over his own, slightly spit-damp and soft against his. Abe presses his nose against Mihashi’s cheek, inhaling and exhaling slowly through parted lips, then tilts his head again because there is no way in hell he’s doing that just once. He shakes his hand free of Mihashi’s, sliding his arm around his waist, wincing a little as he follows suit and jams his hand in between Abe’s back and the seat. His fingers are just shy of on Abe’s ass, but he decides to let it go for now, especially since it allows him to haul Mihashi a little closer, fingers pressing into his side as they kiss again.

_Just once more._

Mihashi wriggles against him, lips parting as they pull back, and it’s too curious, the brief touch of even more delicate skin against his upper lip, the huff of Mihashi’s breath, and what would his lips feel like in this new shape, it’s only sensible to find out. He chases him, pleased with the way Mihashi’s breath hitches, the way he clutches at the front of his shirt. He’s not quite sure how to do it, Abe’s paralyzed for a second with uncertainty and the wonderful feel of just this, but it turns out he only has to part his own lips and Mihashi follows eagerly, breathing out the barest hum of noise that still sends fire down Abe’s spine.

He slips his hand down off Mihashi’s jaw, stroking the side of his neck before running his fingers up into his hair. It seems like Mihashi’s content to let him direct things now, which is good. _I can do this, can keep us from going too far while still making it clear to you that I want this, want YOU_. He sucks on his lower lip, getting a needy hum of pleasure in response. Abe stops immediately, frantically pressing a finger against Mihashi’s lips, shaking him a little.

Mihashi stares back at him wide-eyed, but then leans in, pressing their cheeks together to whisper, “I...I know... I’ll be qu-qu-quiet. So, please...?” Abe nods, then turns his head to catch Mihashi’s mouth in another kiss. But he can’t seem to get that sound out of his head as Mihashi wriggles against his side, as his hand strays down until it is _definitely_ on Abe’s ass. He can’t help wondering about what it implies, wondering if Mihashi is getting hard too, if his dick is pressing against the front of his pants, if he’s squirming around like that so he can take advantage of the delicious friction of fabric...

 _Can’t think about stuff like that_. Abe pulls Mihashi even tighter against him, hoping to still his movements. It mostly works. Except that then, perhaps misinterpreting it as a go-ahead, Mihashi reaches down, yanking the front of Abe's shirt out of his pants. Startled, Abe freezes, giving him the chance to slip his hand under to stroke up to his chest, fingers tracing hot fire on his bare skin. He should _probably_ make him take his hand out. But at least it’s not anywhere near his dick. Against all better judgment, he resumes kissing Mihashi, then tugs back on his hair, producing a mercifully quiet gasp, so he can trail his own line of kisses down Mihashi’s neck. He works open a few more buttons of Mihashi’s shirt, then tugs the collar of his undershirt to the side, kissing along his shoulder.

Mihashi moves his hand in random, almost absent-minded circles on Abe’s chest, then goes still. _Good. If I can keep him distracted, maybe I can keep him from doing anything more, so I won’t get…_ Stroking Mihashi’s waist, he presses another kiss to his collarbone, experimentally sucking, gently at first; Mihashi shivers, exhaling a rough, shuddering breath. _Okay, not TOO distracted, or we’re gonna have a noise problem again._ Still, he can’t help sucking harder and then nipping him as he looses his hold on Mihashi's hair, smoothing his hand down, over his cheek until his palm covers his mouth.

 _That'll work just fine, actually_. Abe presses his hand firmly against Mihashi’s lips, tipping his head back as he kisses up under his jaw. He should really stop, but having Mihashi squirming around like this, gasping air in through his nose, pulling his arm out of Abe’s shirt to grip his shoulders with both hands, is filling him with a powerful, heady feeling, leaving him panting against his skin, now fully hard. But that's not important, not going to be a problem. He can still manage this, still keep things from going too far. And besides, now it’s just _him_ doing stuff, now he’s without the distraction of a hand sliding over his bare skin, he can focus on Mihashi, can keep himself from getting too caught up in this.

He slides his hand up Mihashi’s spine and then back down, curling it tighter around his waist as he kisses the hollow of his throat. Mihashi’s fingers tighten and relax on his shoulders, but, even if it’s more reminder than anything else, the hand on his mouth keeps him silent. Abe rests his forehead against Mihashi’s hot skin for a moment, eyes closed as he exhales slowly. _I should stop. I should really, REALLY stop. I’m GOING to stop._

Abe opens his eyes, finds himself looking down at Mihashi’s lap.

Even in the dim light, Mihashi’s pants are doing very little to hide his erection. It’s not like it’s a surprise, it’s just different, actually _seeing_ the physical evidence that Mihashi is turned on. And it’s because _he’s_ touching him, and it’s insanely hot. Abe shoves his face against Mihashi’s shoulder with a (mostly quiet) groan, dropping both hands to grab his hips. With what feels like inhuman restraint, he drags his palms down the outside of Mihashi’s thighs. _I can’t let you see this, see how much I want this, or I don’t know what either of us will do. I’ve gotta distract you, gotta do SOMETHING, anything that isn’t shoving you down on the seat and mouthing your damn dick through your pants._ So, he roughly pulls down the other side of Mihashi’s collar and bites him. Hard.

Mihashi hisses in a breath; Abe’s worried he’s really hurt him, frozen, just breathing heavily against his skin.

But then Mihashi dips his head to whisper, “Please...th-th-that again, please,” lips brushing his ear, sweetly intimate and _incredibly_ indecent all at once. His mind is all sparking, hot pleasure, and he shudders, hips twitching. He’s got enough presence of mind that he still feels a little guilty about the bite, so he licks the mark, already visible on Mihashi’s pale skin, but it’s impossible to resist gradually sucking it harder. He nips the spot once more and then sucks kisses along his shoulder, biting him again on the curve of his collarbone. Mihashi pushes his face against his shoulder, quieting the little noises he makes, leaving Abe wishing he could drag his head back so he could hear. _Something for later._

And then it’s him choking back a frantic noise against Mihashi’s skin as he cups his dick through his pants. He hadn’t even noticed his hand wasn’t on his shoulder anymore.

 _We NEED to stop, we can’t do this, this is the absolute WORST IDEA._ But his body’s betraying him, hips jerking, pushing his dick into Mihashi’s touch, an accomplice in this trainwreck of a situation. Abe’s simultaneously delighted and appalled to discover that no, he _doesn’t_ have enough self-control, not for this. Not for Mihashi pulling back to fix him with a surprisingly steady gaze, cheeks flushed dark in flashes of streetlight, breathing hard, clothing and hair mussed, and palming his dick with an enthusiasm that leaves him spreading his toes in his sneakers and digging his fingers into Mihashi’s hip.

He gives up on trying to stop this, finally admits to himself he doesn’t goddamn _want_ to, anyway. Now, his goal is just to keep them both _quiet_. Abe pulls Mihashi in for another kiss, then strokes down from his hips once more before curling a hand over his leg to press his fingers into the plushness of his inner thigh. He knows he should probably try to get him off as quick as possible, but he can’t help wanting to just touch Mihashi, now he’s finally letting himself, just familiarise his hands with the contours his eyes already know so well. Still, he doesn’t linger too long before sliding his hand up to feel the length of his dick, delighting in Mihashi’s sharp inhale. He rubs slowly, enjoying the way Mihashi’s narrow hips rock with the movement. But it’s not going to be enough, he wants to feel the heat of his skin, wants to really _see_ Mihashi hard.

Abe fumbles a bit with Mihashi’s belt, then undoes it, gripping the buckle carefully to avoid any suspicious clinking. Logic doesn’t come easy right now, but after a second, he tucks the buckle into Mihashi’s front pocket. Lips twitching up at Mihashi’s urgent, shallow breathing, Abe unbuttons his pants, and then, with agonising but necessary slowness, unzips them. Holding him with one hand fitted against the slight curve of his waist, he slips the other inside his pants, at first simply cupping Mihashi’s dick and panting against his lips. Hips jerking, Mihashi makes a small noise, full of desperate want for all its softness. Abe kisses him again quick before tipping his head to look as he slides his hand firmly against Mihashi’s dick through the soft cotton of his underwear. Mihashi pushes into his touch, then arches, belly tight on a held breath, and Abe knows, _knows_ he’s fighting to stay silent, fighting because of what _he’s_ doing; it leaves him flushed with a strange satisfaction, an intense arousal that just leaves him wanting more.

It’s intoxicating, the way his hips twitch and his breath catches, the way his fingers clench on Abe’s shoulder, the way his other hand stills on Abe’s dick as his body tenses again. Mihashi lets go of his shoulder suddenly, and then his fingers tuck into the waistband of Abe’s pants, sliding against his stomach until he hits the button. Eyebrows pulling together in a slight frown, Abe reluctantly releases Mihashi to knock his hands out of the way; he doesn’t _entirely_ trust _him_ to do that quietly. He relaxes back on the seat to undo his pants himself, relieved to take his weight off his injured leg for a moment. Mihashi watches, leaning against Abe’s shoulder and slipping hot palms up under his shirt, pressing a wet kiss to the side of his neck. Abe breathes out a quiet chuckle at his obvious impatience that ends with a tight inhale as Mihashi shoves his hand in his pants. He can’t seem to move, just smacks his head back against the seat and mouths silent, incoherent words at the roof of the bus while Mihashi rubs his dick and kisses his throat.

He’s too eager to get his hands on him again to just let himself enjoy this, though. And _really_ get his hands on him, now. Abe twists to lean his forehead against Mihashi’s, watching intently as he yanks down the waistband of Mihashi’s underwear so he can pull his cock out and curl his hand around it, stroking immediately. He knows he’s impeding Mihashi’s movements, but it’s unimportant when he’s got him squirming around and fisting his free hand in Abe’s shirt.

But he’s also starting to make more of those quiet, desperate noises. Beautiful as they are, Abe brings his free hand up to smooth his thumb over Mihashi’s cheek, kissing him, making soft shushing noises against his lips. It’s painful how hot he is, making Abe’s hips jerk, making him wish they were somewhere _private_. He presses his thumb over Mihashi's parted lips, as though that could somehow hold back any sound he made, kissing his cheek.

Mihashi’s movements become erratic, his hand in Abe's pants finally stilling completely as he tugs on his shirt with an aimless urgency. Abe’s touch on his dick is firmer, insistent now as he strokes his cheek, his neck, his hair, whispering nearly inaudible words of encouragement against his skin. When Mihashi stops moving entirely, save for a tense shiver, Abe pulls back, cupping his cheek and watching raptly as he bites his lip, inhaling staccato breaths through his nose. His eyelids flutter open and he stares back at Abe, trembling, mouth opening soundlessly as he comes into Abe’s fingers.

With a self-satisfied smile, Abe releases his dick as Mihashi lets out a stuttering breath and drops his head on his shoulder. Gently, he tugs Mihashi’s underwear back into place, and is trying to figure out how to work his fly when Mihashi shakes himself and starts palming his dick again, lazy with sleep and afterglow, turning his head to kiss Abe’s neck lightly. Clumsily, he pulls Abe’s underwear down, half- freeing his dick. Abe wants to speak, tell him he doesn’t have to do that, tell him he can just sleep now if he wants, tell him he’s going to make even _more_ of a mess that they have no way to clean up, but he can’t trust his voice right now, so he just grabs his wrist, tugging his hand away.

When Mihashi pushes himself back abruptly, tearing his wrist out of Abe's grasp, Abe’s chest tightens; Mihashi’s going to take it wrong, going to freak out like so many times before. He’s still frozen when Mihashi bends over, yanking his underwear down further and wrapping his hand around the base of his dick, breath ghosting over the head. _Oh_. Mihashi hesitates for a few agonising moments, Abe trying to persuade his limbs to move, to take advantage of his moment of unsureness to push him back. If anyone woke up, if anyone looked right now, there’d be _no_ explaining this away. But all that happens is his hips twitch, nudging his dick against the corner of Mihashi’s mouth, startling quiet gasps out of both of them. Spurred into action, Mihashi squeezes his dick lightly and slicks his tongue against the side, over the head, before closing his lips around it.

It’s all Abe can do to bite back a groan as he slides his lips down a little ways, spit-slick and warm even against his fevered skin as he pulls back. With each bob of his head, Mihashi only takes him into his mouth shallowly, but it’s enough, enough to have Abe pushing his toes against the floor, legs trembling as he tries not to fuck his mouth. Mihashi’s tongue presses against his skin, seeming more unconscious curiousity than any sort of purposeful movement, but amazing as he sucks back up his cock. Every so often, Abe can feel the slight vibration of sound through Mihashi’s lips, noises he can't even hear, but that leave him breathless with the knowledge that Mihashi’s finding this _hot_ , that he’s enjoying it, even after coming himself. His left hand feels empty, now, and he gropes around until he finds Mihashi's free hand, curling his fingers around it. Sliding his lips off his dick for a moment, panting, Mihashi turns his palm, lacing their fingers together against Abe's hip, then sucks him back in with renewed enthusiasm.

Abe’s close, right on the edge, digging his (carefully kept closed) fist into his thigh, shoving his head back against the seat, chest rising and falling rapidly with each tightly controlled breath. And then Mihashi groans around his dick, loud enough that he _can_ hear, and it pushes him over the edge. Jamming his knuckles against his mouth, hips rocking up in barely controlled jerks, Abe comes deep in Mihashi's mouth. He chokes slightly, but before Abe can feel bad, Mihashi’s sucking, tongue working against his skin as he swallows his come, humming another happy noise around his dick that makes him push up into him with each aftershock.

Mihashi lets his dick slip out of his mouth, shoving his forehead against Abe’s thigh for a moment before lifting his head to smile at him drowsily. Abe smiles back, dragging their linked hands up to press his lips to the back of Mihashi's and then holding it against his chest. He swallows, almost speaks.

And then remembers where they are with a jolt. Frantic, he jerks the waistband of his underwear out of Mihashi’s loose grip, gets his dick tidied away with a speed that surprises himself. Getting his pants done up is more than he can manage one-handed, though, and he stares blankly at his sticky fingers. Mihashi pushes himself up, blinking at him in sleepy confusion, then reaches for the pocket on the back of the seats in front of them, and pulls out...the paper with weight-training info on it, holding it out. Abe stares back at him, then at the paper, then gives Mihashi an unimpressed look and pushes the paper away before wiping his hand as clean as possible on the inside of his underwear. _Gross, but it’ll do._ Except that then he thinks about the fact that it’s _Mihashi’s_ come, that he’s going to spend the rest of this trip with Mihashi’s come on his underwear. A residual shiver runs down his spine.

When he looks up, Mihashi's smiling shyly; he leans toward Abe, but hesitates. Abe cups his cheek, coaxing him the rest of the way, drawing him in for a lingering kiss. Close- mouthed. “Thank you,” he breathes against his lips, stroking his cheek, adding, with a knowing smirk, “That was _amazing_.” Mihashi wiggles against him, and when he leans back to look, he’s smiling bigger than before, cheeks flushed dark at the praise. Abe smiles back at him (more pleasantly this time), reluctantly dropping his hand to rebutton Mihashi’s shirt and trying not to think about bruises.

He gets them as neatened up as possible and then kisses Mihashi lightly before pulling back and fixing him with a stern look. “Now, why, _exactly_ , didn’t you do this _last_ night?” he demands, voice barely a whisper but no less forceful for that.

Mihashi cringes, breaks eye-contact, but still answers, “Um, I... I don’t know??” With a sigh, Abe presses their foreheads together; _at least he’s honest_. But Mihashi continues, “W-wanted to... But...scared? Thought Abe-kun...but... And then!" Abe blinks at him, surprised to be getting such a lengthy (if still completely incomprehensible) explanation. "H-hoped...wouldn't have to... But tonight! G-got excited. And...I thought, if...if Abe-kun didn’t want...would s-s-stop me??”

“‘Want’ isn’t...” he trails off with a pained expression. None of that answers his question of why _now_ , in pretty much the worst situation possible, but Abe decides not to press the issue for the time being. “Okay. Let’s just...let’s just sleep.” Mihashi nods, and Abe slumps back on the seat, eyes closing as exhaustion washes over him.

Only to open them wide when Mihashi flops down with his head in his lap. Words of protest die on his lips; Mihashi nuzzles his leg, tucking a hand underneath, unfairly adorable. People will just think it’s _him_ being weird anyway. Probably. Hopefully. With a resigned expression, Abe pets his hair until they fall asleep.

* * *

Abe waits when the team files off the bus in the morning; he’s still moving slow, and it’s better to let everyone else off first. Which is why he’s still sitting, staring off into space when Tajima grabs his hand and gives him a high-five and a ridiculous grin. Abe stares, horrified, but Tajima just keeps walking. Izumi’s groggy question meets with the answer, “Eh, nothing, just buggin’ him!”

_I’m going to have to murder him. Hanai better improve his pitch calling real quick._

But then Mihashi totters up, carrying both their bags, and smiling, _really_ smiling at him, and everything else is forgotten. Standing, Abe says, “I can take that,” already lifting the strap off, eyeing the last stragglers getting off the bus.

“N-no, I--” Mihashi’s protest is cut off when, briefly hidden by arms and bag, Abe presses a quick kiss to his lips. Mihashi tries to follow him, but Abe stops him with a finger over his mouth.

Grinning warmly, he says, “ _Later_.” Cheeks pink, Mihashi looks so ridiculously happy that Abe kisses him again anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, Abe. It...it was me. I'M the reason Mihashi didn't touch your dick in the hotel room. uvu I...I have a bit of a...a thing for...public sex, so when I read the Koushien trip arc, this is where my mind went immediately. But I struggled with myself about writing this for a LONG TIME, because the entire premise is just SO COMPLETELY OOC for Abe. He would NEVER let them do anything like this, not in a MILLION YEARS. He'd almost sooner throw Mihashi off the bus. Almost.
> 
> I wrote this Abe a little more self-aware than normal...even if he is TOTALLY lying to himself when they're on the bus. Actually, pretty much this entire fic. Self-control, indeed. It was really fun writing a more forward Mihashi, though! He must be pretty frustrated and impatient by now, waiting for Abe to notice that he's 900% into him, so I can't blame him. Get that d, Mihashi! *high fives*


End file.
